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The old man watched the scene unfold, his face immediately tightening with anxiety. He gently patted the old lady's back while softly reassuring her, "Take your time, don't rush, drink slowly." His voice was cautious, fearful that the old lady's sudden actions might draw James's attention. He moved as naturally as possible, trying to conceal the tension in the air.
However, despite his efforts to mask it, his inner turmoil could not be entirely suppressed. Each pat on the back was laced with unspoken worry. His gaze frequently darted toward James, dreading that he might suddenly turn around.
James remained by the desk, his fingers gliding lightly over the pages of a dark red book, his expression focused and profound, as if he were completely captivated by its contents. Occasionally, he would lower his head to scrutinize a particular passage, and a slight smile seemed to play at the corners of his mouth, clearly having encountered something interesting or profound. Throughout this process, he showed no reaction to the outside world, as if he were alone in the room conversing with the soul of the book.
Seeing James's lack of response eased some of the old man's worries. He let out a gentle sigh, feeling a bit more relaxed, thinking perhaps they had gone unnoticed. James's concentration seemed to make their actions less conspicuous.
Yet just as the old man was about to fully relax, James's voice suddenly shattered the silence in the room. It was low and slow, carrying an elusive sense of eeriness: "You two... are you really planning to leave?"
James's voice echoed in the room, gentle yet filled with an underlying sense of pressure, like an invisible chain that instantly bound the movements of the old man and woman. The old man's hand froze mid-air, his fingers trembling slightly as he was about to set down the teacup. A chill crept up his spine as if the temperature in the room had dropped several degrees.
The old lady's coughing abruptly ceased; her eyes widened in surprise and unease. Her heart raced as an indescribable fear began to spread within her.
James still did not look up; his gaze remained fixed on the pages of the book, his fingers slowly turning them. Yet his tone cast an undeniable shadow over them, making it impossible to resist.
James's unexpected remark pierced through the old man and woman's tense facade like a cold needle. Their hearts raced simultaneously as they felt an overwhelming pressure wash over them. James's tone sounded casual, even tinged with a hint of playful irony, but there was an unsettling quality beneath it that sent chills down their spines.
The old man's heart jolted sharply, but he knew better than to reveal any signs of distress at such a moment; otherwise, things would only spiral further out of control. He forced himself to remain calm and managed a stiff smile, though his voice came out somewhat strained as he quickly replied, "How could we possibly leave now, James? We weren't planning on it; it's just getting a bit late... We both tend to go to bed early; this... is indeed our usual bedtime."
His tone carried a hint of unease as he tried to quell any doubts in James's mind with this explanation. He understood that every word and expression they shared at this moment had to be measured carefully; otherwise, they would invite more trouble. His gaze flickered slightly as he sought some reassurance from James's reaction.
The old lady stood beside him, her fear reaching its peak, yet she understood that maintaining a facade of calm was crucial at this moment. She hurriedly nodded in agreement with her husband's words, her tone urgent yet relatively steady: "Yes, yes, James; we just feel it's getting late; today has indeed been a bit late for us. We're older now and used to going to bed early."
The voices of the two intertwined, their efforts to mask the fear within them evident, yet their trembling tones could not completely conceal their inner unease. James still did not look up, his eyes fixed on the dark red book in front of him, his fingers leisurely turning the pages. The soft sound of the pages turning felt particularly jarring in the stillness of the air, as if it were a silent judgment.
James listened to their explanations without any change in expression, not even a flicker of movement. His figure resembled that of a statue, cold and elusive. He seemed utterly indifferent to their words, focusing instead on the content of the book, as if everything outside was irrelevant to him. This disregard only heightened the anxiety of the elderly man and woman, leaving them unsure of how to proceed.
A thin sheen of cold sweat began to form on the old man's forehead as he stole a glance at James, who remained engrossed in his reading. The tension in his chest intensified. Faced with James's unresponsive demeanor, he found it impossible to discern the other man's thoughts and felt uncertain about what to do next. At that moment, all he could think of was finding an excuse to leave this place while there was still silence.
"Alright, James," the old man finally mustered his courage and said softly, forcing a calm demeanor as he placed his teacup back on the table. "We really must be going. Thank you for the tea and macarons today; let's meet again another time."
As he spoke, his fingers trembled slightly, making his gesture of setting down the cup appear hurried. Seeing her husband make a decision, the elderly woman quickly followed suit and gently placed her teacup down before standing up. Her heart raced, her legs felt weak, but she tried her best to appear composed.
James remained unresponsive, still looking down as his fingers continued to turn the pages slowly and steadily, as if everything that had just transpired was irrelevant to him. The oppressive atmosphere grew stronger with his indifference; it felt as though an invisible force enveloped the elderly couple, making it impossible for them to escape this strange tension no matter how hard they tried.
Ultimately, they decided not to say anything more and hurriedly leave this suffocating room. They stood up silently, attempting to maintain calmness in their movements while their hearts were filled with fear and helplessness. They knew that staying any longer could lead to even more unpredictable outcomes.
Finally standing up, the elderly couple's steps trembled slightly, but they forced themselves to remain calm and act as if everything was normal. They walked toward the door step by step; with each step they took, their anxiety intensified. The oppressive atmosphere in the room felt like an invisible hand tightly gripping their breaths. James continued to look down at his dark red book without hindering their actions, which provided them with a slight sense of relief.
When they reached the door, the old man extended his hand to grasp the doorknob. He felt sweat soaking his palm, making it slippery. Slowly turning the knob, he was filled with anticipation at leaving this place, repeatedly telling himself that once he opened this door, everything would be over.
However, at that moment, the doorknob suddenly felt heavy as if an unseen force was preventing them from moving. With a dull thud, the door slammed shut on its own; the strong impact made the frame shudder slightly as if the room itself was rejecting their departure.
The elderly man and woman were startled into silence by this sudden turn of events. They stood before the door in shock, staring at it wide-eyed with disbelief and fear. They could not comprehend what had just happened; it seemed as though the door had developed a will of its own and no longer allowed them to leave.
"What... what is happening?" The elderly woman's voice trembled as she nearly burst into tears. She clutched her husband's arm tightly, her body shaking slightly from fright.
The old man felt his heart racing, cold sweat trickling down his forehead. He tried to turn the doorknob again, but the door seemed locked by some unseen force, refusing to budge. They couldn't comprehend how this door could close itself in front of them.
Just as the two were engulfed in confusion and helplessness, James's voice drifted in from behind, breaking the silence in the room. His tone was low and slow, carrying a chilling power that sent shivers down their spines.
"It seems... you both need to sit for a while longer." James's tone was nonchalant, as if he were entirely unfazed by this sudden turn of events. He still hadn't looked up, his gaze fixed on the pages of his book, yet the coldness in his words cut through the air like a sharp blade, piercing deep into their hearts.
The old man and woman felt their hearts nearly stop for a moment, their bodies frozen in place. That statement hung over them like an invisible chain, completely locking away their hope. They stood at the doorway, struggling internally, unsure of what to do, as if this room had transformed into an invisible cage from which they could never escape.
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